High Stakes... and Low Steaks

Sorry, it's more about the camping trip. I still haven't left yet, barely done any packing. but I did a little to get ready...

I had to replace the tailgate grill from last year, since the one I had was inadvertently left out to fend for itself against the elements this winter.
It didn't make it. Well, it sort of made it. If you can call being half-filled with water while the other half was filled with a wasp nest 'making it'. I didn't. Especially since the water rotted out all the workings inside. I tossed it and planned to get a new one. I actually purchased one a month or two ago in preparation for this trip.
I just put it together yesterday.
I did test it though, cooking part of Handsome's dinner on it last night, and the good news is, it worked perfectly!
The bad news is, I dropped the steak on the way to put it on the grill. Right down on the deck.
More good news is that, what with Handsome watching TV, I was able to rinse it off and he never even knew!
More bad news is, he does have access to this blog. Just no interest. If he ever does develop an interest, and read this, I hope I can still take him. Or, at least, out-run him.
I did print out a few of my blog entries that feature him to read to him while we're camping. I think he'll get a kick out of them... I know I do! They may spawn some interest about this blog in his almost-9-year-old little heart, but I sort of doubt it.
I guess I'll take my chances.

Until we return from the wild, farewell!

In other words, 'Talk to you later!'

Registering Time

There I was, in the checkout at the supermarket. I was in a bit of a hurry, since I was just picking up a couple of things I needed to make dinner and it was already getting late. I had opted to go through one of the manned checkout registers rather than the self checkout. Every time I'm in a hurry the self checkout goes all wonky and I wind up having to wait for someone who gives the impression that they're way too busy to be helping me. Instead of going through that I went to the only manned counter. Since there was only one open, it wasn't like I had a lot of options. I only had five or six things in my hands; it wasn't even one of those trips where I get halfway through the store and start wishing I had a basket or cart.

I threw everything on the belt and moved to stand in front of the cashier, my little shopping club card held at the ready. She thanked me when she took the cart, I thanked her when she gave it back. Then she saw my shirt.

I picked this shirt up on my one trip to Georgia, for my aunts wedding. The trip was for the wedding, not the shirt. The shirt has a large picture of a redfish across the back, with the slogan "Your Bait Sucks and Your Boat's Ugly - Savanna GA." I was replacing my shopping club card in my wallet and pulling out my debit card as the cashier, a slightly older woman, said, speaking slowly and distinctly, "Oh, do you fish?"

I looked up from my debit card to see the woman looked at me and holding the first item to be scanned in her hand. She was not scanning it, she was looking at me. Beside me a gentleman was throwing his purchases on the belt behind mine, slapping that the separator bar down with all the authority of someone also in a rush.

"Yes, I do."

She lifted my first item in the air, but then it settled back down into place, on stand, as she said "My husband and I went on a trip one time, on one of those big boats."

"That's great," I replied. "Maybe I'll take one of those trips someday." I immediately, and pointedly, returned my eye focus to the debit card reader in front of me. The screen on the reader said "please wait for cashier".

Terrific.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mr. In-A-Hurry checking his watch.

I feel for you dude, I feel for you.
The cashier paused for thought for a moment. A long moment. Or two. She is not a multi-tasker. She dod not scan and think at the same time.

"My husband, he caught one of those big fish. You know the ones I mean? The ones with the big thing?"

 She was waving my first purchase behind her back, indicating the "thing" to which she was referring.

"A sailfish, or swordfish," I said, before returning my attention to that debit machine like a dog on point, card at the ready.

She swung the item down and over the scanner, which beeped.

Progress!

She put her hand to the second item, then stopped again.
Mr. In-A-Hurry sighed loudly.

"Oh, it was huge, and then we did the thing with that guy."
Okay, I have to admit that when she said that it threw me for a bit of a loop.What thing with what guy? All kinds of things to ran through my head at that one, up to and including this short, round and bespectacled older lady and her husband having some strange sexual encounter with the boat captain. Thus it was that I believe I sounded completely stunned when I said "What?"
"The thing with the taxidermist." She paused. "And the fish."
"You had it mounted?" I said.
She scanned another of my items.
Yes!
"Yes, that was it."
Beside me, Mr. In-A-Hurry had begun to mutter under his breath. I could not make out what he said, but it sounded vaguely as if he were praying that the wrath of some sort of hell would suddenly befall either myself, the cashier, or both. I wished him luck.
I realize that at this point I still had two or three items to go, but in all honesty my memory of that small portion of my life is completely blank. Whether I entered some sort of fugue state or have just repressed the memory out of sheer horror, the result is the same. The next thing I knew I was standing beyond the cash register with my bagged purchases in my hands. I looked up at the clock on the wall and did the math. I believe that I'm missing 7 min. of time there, 7 min. of my life that I will not get back.
Somewhat dazed, I looked back at the register. Mr. In-A-Hurry was standing in the exact spot I had been in. His debit card was in his hand, and a look of utter defeat was on his face. The cashier was holding his first purchase in her hand, unscanned, I believe, and she was talking.
"Sorry, but better you than me pal," I said aloud. "I did my time."
I turned and hustled toward the door, late for starting dinner but feeling lucky to be making dinner at all.

I have to learn that when I'm in a hurry I should not go shopping. No matter what register I go to, it's going to be broken.

Talk you later!

Teriyaki Time Travel

 Okay... today we go back in time. It's not today, it's a completely different day, completely unlike this day that we call 'today'. I'll call this day...

'Yesterday'.

Yeah... I like that. Okay, so, go back in your mind to this so-called 'yesterday', and you may remember that, way back then, I was writing a blog. It was, in fact, a lot like this one I'm writing now. So anyway, cast your mind back … back … back … ok, a little too far, not that far back … good. Right. So it's 'yesterday'.

'Yesterday', if you can remember reading my blog that far back, I mentioned that I was making mostaccioli for Handsome to eat for the rest of the week, and that while I was making this 'future leftover', Handsome was making a meal of 'past leftovers' at the kitchen table behind me.

'Yesterday', 'future leftovers', 'past leftovers' … whew! And that's just the beginning! Don't worry. I'll see if I can get Stephen Hawking to do some kind of Cliff Notes on this entry.

Okay, stick with me. What I did not tell you, because I didn't know it was relevant at the time, was what I ate for dinner. When I went to the store to get the beef for the mostaccioli, (this was before Handsome and I were eating while I was cooking. I know! Another jump in time! I'm sorry … I'll try to keep things as linear as possible, for the good of Mankind.) I picked up some Chinese Teriyaki sausages. Before I started cooking I turned the oven on and threw the sausages in there on the broiler and just kept an eye on them. They were done before the casserole was ready to go in the oven, so I took them out, cut them up, and ate them while I was stirring the white-sauce for the mostaccioli. Stirring with one hand, and wielding the fork with the other, like some sort of amazingly clumsy and under-trained Hibachi Chef, I consumed all eight sausages from the pack, one after the other.

They were delicious.

And that was dinner.

I wasn't over-full, I didn't have any side-dishes, I just ate while I cooked and it was tasty as hell.

Until …

Okay, I'm sorry, but for this all to make sense, I have to time travel again. Way back this time, back, back, back some more … keep going … almost … Okay! Stop! We're a month ago, at my doctor's office. I was in there talking to her about my steroid treatments and she mentioned a side-effect. She said that steroids, both oral and intravenous, can cause heartburn and indigestion.

Can.

Okay... now fast forward back to yesterday (forward back to yesterday? Stephen Hawking better have his thinking cap on when he goes over this, that's all I have to say!) later on in yesterday, all the way to last night. Here's where the whole time-travel angle really comes into it. Those sausages had been eaten hours before. They were gone. In the past. Practically forgotten, by the time I lay down to go to bed.

But they came back. And they were mad.

As soon as I lay down to go to sleep, they attacked, burning pain in my chest and gut. It took me a few minutes to figure out what was happening, but once I did, it seemed obvious. The pain was pretty bad, and I was pretty confused. What was this pain, and where was it coming from? As I lay there, groaning and wondering, I got my answer.

I burped.

Teriyaki.

It's them!

That's when I knew. Somehow, the sausages were back, and with a vengeance! I wondered how they could be back, since it had been hours, I had quite thoroughly eaten them, and they were gone, long gone.

My first thought was ghosts! Spirit sausages crossing back over from the Great Beyond, crossing back with a purpose, a vendetta! An hour later I knew that was wrong. Spirit sausages would lack substance, be incorporeal. The ultimate in light sausages: 100% meat free meat! But I could feel them, all eight of them, punishing me whenever I tried to rest. They had been utterly destroyed hours ago, but I could still feel them whenever they attacked. I could feel them, but not see them. When I said that aloud, lying in my bed of agony, that was when I knew the truth:

Time Traveling Ninja Sausages.

Time Traveling Ninja Sausages had somehow gotten word that I was to be their doom, and had come forward in time to punish me with their terrible Teriyaki Training. I tried to defend myself any way I could, but no matter how I tossed and turned, how I shifted and stirred, no matter what position I twisted myself into, they found the perfect angle to attack my weak spots; striking from the shadows, unseen in the night, stabbing and twisting my innards, tortuously keeping me from getting any rest until, finally, the alarm went off and they fled. I lay there, spent, chest burning, the terrible taste of …

Okay. Now that I've read back over this, it's entirely possible that the Time Traveling Ninja Sausages were a bit of a bad dream. A dream that seemed all too real as I tossed and turned the night away, pungent Teryaki fumes emanating from orifices best left unmentioned …

… of course, that's just what Teriyaki Trained Time Traveling Ninja Sausages would want you to think!

(Cue Twilight Zone Music)

Talk to you later!

Breakfast - Gone Horribly Wrong

Now, keep in mind that I do this, exactly the same way, every week with nary a hitch. My son, whom I'm calling Handsome for the purposes of this blog, likes the same thing for breakfast all the time. Microwave sausages, Bisquick instant pancake mix (just add water) and Handsome and I sit down to eat.

I began.

The sausages went in the microwave, 50% power for 5 minutes. Easy. The pan (non-stick teflon, the same one I use every time) went on the stove, with the burner set at 5, just like always. I added water to the fill line and shook the pancake mix for about 60 seconds, turning the bottle over and tapping the mix out of the bottom of the container to mix it fully, as per the directions. I poured out a pancake into the pre-heated pan and went to get a spatula.  By the time I came back, bubbles had stopped rising through the batter circle in the pan, indicating that it was ready to flip. I tried to flip it and found it stuck fast. To a non-stick pan.

I sighed.

I took the hot pan to the sink and scraped out what I could, then actually washed the pan. Dried it, put it on the burner again (after checking that the heat was set correctly at 5, like always) and got the butter. I lightly buttered the pan and tried again.

I wound up with a lightly buttered disc of batter stuck to the center of the pan. Slowly browning and burning as I pried at the edges.

Back to the sink.

I washed the pan.

Lightly oiled it this time, and tried again.

A lightly oiled disc of slowly burning batter, quite stuck in the pan.

Frustrated, I left this obviously cursed pan in the sink and got out a smaller, also non-stick pan. Not taking any chances, I lightly oiled this one right off the bat. I had enough batter left to start one pancake, so I did. While it was starting, I went to the cupboard and got out a second little jug of Bisquick instant batter, added water to the fill line, firmly replaced the cap and started shaking. As per the directions, I turned the jug over to tap the bottom and shake loose all the batter in order to make certain to mix it thoroughly.

Good thing I was still at the sink.

The cap shot off, banging into the sink, followed by most of the contents of the jug in one thick, slightly disgusting-looking splat.

Hoping to save something from all this, I dashed to the stove where I attempted to flip the lone remaining attempt at a pancake... only to shave the top layer of raw batter off of the slowly browning disc that was stuck to the center of the lightly oiled, non-stick pan.

People keep telling me that God has a sense of humor. I looked at the church that is actually quite visible from the kitchen window and shook my fist at it.

"Laugh it up, funnyman!"

I turned off the stove, threw away the sausages, washed all the dishes (both pans, the plates, everything) and went back upstairs where I had left Handsome watching classic Bugs Bunny on YouTube.

"Okay, where do you want to go for breakfast?"

He looked up at me.

"You aren't making breakfast?"

"I can't."

"Why?"

So I told him.

I'm a slow typist, and I've had time to write all this down, and he's still laughing at me.

We're going to Denny's.

Have a nice day.